


You Have My Word

by InLust



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern, CEO Cersei, CFO Margaery, F/F, First Time, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Modern AU, Modern Slavery AU, Political Alliances, Sex Education
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLust/pseuds/InLust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Starks supposedly fled the country but not Sansa. She couldn’t leave her home. But she couldn’t stay Sansa either. Without realizing it, she was tricked into slavery, sold as a courtesan as they called it instead.</p><p>Modern AU. The Starks were traitors to the country. No one had raised a hand to help when the news had broken out. After months of being traded from hand to hand, Sansa ends up in the possession of Margaery Tyrell of Tyrell Corporation. Sansa fears for her life. Margaery intends to change this with her own motivation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Have My Word

**Author's Note:**

> this was based off a prompt during the winter which was 
> 
> Anonymous asked: oh jesus Sansaery master/slave if that's not too much to ask ahhhhh. Maybe Sansa being freaked out and thinking her mistress is going to be cruel but finding out the exact opposite? Explicit is totally fine.
> 
> and it just spiraled into this; I will also be posting this to my tumblr nocteverbascio.tumblr

No one has ever been assigned a woman _in a long time._ Sansa looked at the name on her paper along with the address. It wasn’t just any woman either.

_Margaery Tyrell._

**Tyrell Corporation.**

Sansa internally groaned as she stood in front of the large mansion. The estate itself was enormous. It was almost like something she had read out of a fairy tale.

She had this _once_. Her family had a large home. A chunk of land. Respect amongst followers. Then her father was named a _traitor_ , murdered, and _her family had lost everything_. No one knew a Stark face anymore. And their name was a black mark in history.

The Starks supposedly fled the country but not Sansa. She couldn’t leave her home. But she couldn’t stay Sansa either. Without realizing it, she was tricked into slavery, sold as a _courtesan_ as they called it instead. It was an unfortunately thriving business under the guise of hired workers.

Sansa stared at the paper again. Jeyne Westerling had been owned by a woman. _Cersei Baratheon._ She shivered remembering that Jeyne hadn’t lasted two weeks before she ran off. _Or at least that’s what they told her._

Margaery Tyrell was a high ranking officer in the richest corporation of Westeros. _Cersei was a CEO_. Even if they were women, they could be cruel.

“Miss Stark, my name is Loras,” a man with a beautiful shining brown mane greeted her at the front door. “My sister is unfortunately running late, please follow me.”

It had been a long time since she had heard her surname said aloud without a sneer.

Nevertheless, Sansa bowed her head demurely. She had been taught to keep her head down since her family had lost Winterfell Manor. She knew better than to ask questions and counter. If she could, she would probably be able to escape before the woman had gotten there. She stared up and down the ostentatious home that thrived in shining green and gold tapestry. She was in awe at the lavish home. She hadn’t seen anything like it before.

“I know,” the man said when he realized that Sansa was staring in awe. “Our family has been around for ages. What we keep in our home reflects the hard work that has given us the wealth we survive off of today.”

Sansa gulped. Whatever Jeyne Westerling described to her of the Baratheon home, the Tyrell’s were in another league. “Sir…” she agreed softly.

“No need to be so formal, _Sansa_ ,” he said as they reached a door. He opened up the door to a large bedroom with a queen sized canopy bed and a roaring fireplace. “This is where you will be staying from now on. Whatever Margaery needs, you will provide for her. If she does not require your attention, this will be your room to rest comfortably.”

Sansa’s eyes widened at him. “ _I’m sorry_?” she asked in confusion.

He returned her expression. “We provide for our workers comfortably. _Especially_ in _your_ case, Margaery is expecting to keep you here for quite awhile.”

 _This has got to be a trick._ “Of course,” Sansa nodded in agreement. It was the only _rational_ thing to do.

He beckoned her to keep walking down the hall. Pointing out where he was staying, the floor where their grandmother was staying, the studies, the library. The library was Sansa’s favorite.

"You are more than welcome to come in here at any time,” Margaery’s brother offered kindly.

“Thank you,” Sansa found herself practically exclaiming. She blushed when he smiled at her.

“Come, I will show you Margaery’s room,” Loras informed as they continued up the stairs. “Margaery is the only one in our family that hasn’t utilized the _women_ we’ve hired. We’ve had to ask them to leave because she claimed, none of them were up to her _standard_. However, we sent for profiles this time, yours was the _only_ one she liked.”

That didn’t make Sansa feel any better. That would mean there was **no** _warning_ , **no** _help_. _How was she supposed to be like? They had profiles on us?_

"I would suggest calling her _Mistress_ to start,” Loras said as they reached the top steps and turned to the right. “I’ve seen her bring a man down to tears once because he incorrectly sold a share to Tywin Lannister. _So do your best to not to cross her._ If she asks you to do something, _you do it_. If she wants to be alone, _leave her._ If she wants you for a function, make yourself presentable at all times.”

He pushed open the door behind him. Inside was _unexpected_. It was _**definitely** _ something Sansa had read out of a fairy tale. Her room was dimly lit with a calm light. Her bed seemed far larger than Sansa’s had been, and the wooden frame seemed far too ornate that Sansa swore it was customized. What surprised Sansa was the vanity by the window and a screen to change behind. There was also a couch by the fireplace with random papers scattered about.

"Margaery is a bit of a workaholic,” Loras said with a roll of his eyes. “That’s why you shouldn’t be offended if she doesn’t need your company. Then again, maybe she needs you more than ever.” He turned to her with a knowing smirk.

Her eyes widened at his implication. She wanted to ask him what that meant but he quickly turned to the door.

“You may stay here until she arrives. If she is running late, I am sure your face will be a breath of fresh air for her,” Loras said as her opened the door. “ _Good luck, Sansa_.”

Sansa bowed her head, almost distraught at his words. _Why did he wish me luck?_ The door shut behind him with a light click.

She looked around in the room. The sunlight would come in from the East. _What kind of person would willingly want to see the sunrise in the morning?_ She did her best not to disturb the room as she made her way around.

Sansa picked up some of the papers that were laying on the table before the fireplace. They all had letterheads of different companies asking for grants and donations. On them there were little notes ranging from, positive remarks to laughable negative ones, such as, _"Monkey brain”_ or _“idiot.”_ At least, Margaery was smart to leave those in her room.

There was one thing that Sansa knew she couldn’t resist. She looked at the large bed in the room. The duvet and comforter looked ridiculously comfortable as she approached. She ran her hand against the material and gasped at how smooth and soft it had been. Unable to resist temptation, she jumped onto the bed and felt herself sinking in comfortably.

It felt like she was on a _cloud_.

She winced suddenly at the thought at how too good to be true this all was. She sat up quickly at the sound of the door clicking.

Sansa hadn’t even had a chance to imagine who her mistress was. _Old? Young? Tall? Short? Hairy? Bald? Gentle? Rough? Ugly? Pretty?_

And in Margaery Tyrell walked. _No_ , she practically **glided** into the room. She was an _executive_. Dressed with precision, comfort, and sexuality dripping from head to toe. Sansa gulped at how she thought for a moment Margaery’s hair would be pinned up in a conservative bun but there she stood, golden brown locks like her brother pulled away from her face but her mane cascading down her shoulders exposing her smooth neck.

She was _**beautiful**_ , _moreso_ than Loras.

Her suit was deep obsidian, the blazer tailored right to her wrist barely hiding an expensive Rolex, it matched with the skirt that hugged at her waist and shaped her figure as it touched just above her knees. She must have been wearing stockings, Sansa mused as she stared at her legs down to the stiletto heels.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

Margaery Tyrell’s voice wasn’t cutting. It wasn’t hurtful. It was sweet and gentle. _It was amused._

Sansa’s eyes widened, realizing that she was still sitting on the woman’s bed. She all but jumped off as Margaery approached.

_Oh, she is shorter than me._

The woman had placed her leather briefcase onto the couch and moved closer to Sansa. The way she carried herself and moved across the room, made her _rightfully_ Sansa’s mistress.

“Mistress,” Sansa greeted almost inaudibly as she found herself curtsying under Margaery’s rounding of her. She could feel the powerful woman’s eyes ravishing her already.

“Say your name for me,” Margaery instructed as she stood before the red head.

The look in her eyes almost shocked Sansa. The cool light eyes pierced her Tully blue ones.

Sansa averted her gaze quickly and tried to catch her breath. “ _Sansa_ …,” she bit her lip before adding, “ _Stark_.” _Please let her not be an enemy of my father’s._

“ _ **Sansa Stark**_ ,” Margaery echoed sweetly as her hand came up to Sansa’s chin and beckoned her to stare at her. “It’s a very _lovely_ name.” Her hand stroked gently at her red locks.

Sansa’s eyes remained on her mistress’ hand as she stroked her hair.

“Did Loras tell you what your job would be?” the Tyrell woman asked as her hand cupped her cheek.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She didn’t want to shake her head. _Should she have known?_ She stared at the ground.

“Sansa…I won’t hurt you if that is what you’re afraid of,” Margaery admitted as her hand slipped from her cheek, down her neck, and down her breast.

Sansa shivered at the soft caress as Margaery’s hand found purchase at her waist. She didn’t know whether or not to believe the woman.

“You are going to be my companion, in many ways, but it is a privilege nonetheless. You will be under my care and protection. _Would you like that_?”

Her eyes shot to Margaery’s in disbelief at her words. “Promises are made to be broken,” she quipped before she could stop herself. She cringed almost instantly. She should’ve been slapped.

The woman merely looked at her with sad eyes before turning them both around. She sat down on the bed, one leg crossed over the other as she leaned back.

"Strip for me,” Margary ordered suddenly.

Sansa kept her head down low. Thankful she wasn’t slapped for her comment. She began to unbutton the dress she was given.

“Women in our position will always have a choice. To do what we please but also what is good for us,” she continued to speak as Sansa continued to pop open the buttons. She watched the younger girl with trained eyes that made her whole body flush. “You, Sansa Stark, are daughter of a traitor, forced into slavery, and sold to me. But I can assure you that I will not hurt you.”

Sansa finished opening the last button with trembling hands before she looked at Margaery. She shivered as her eyes remained focused on Sansa’s body.

“I do have _rules_.”

Sansa let the dress pool at the ground beneath her before she hugged herself. She still had her underwear and bra on.

"Take those off.” The red head nodded and unclasped her bra and let it fall to the ground. “My rules are simple. Do as I ask and when I want to be alone, leave. As we continue our companionship, you will understand my needs more thoroughly.”

Sansa bent down to push her underwear off. She could feel Margaery’s hungry eyes on her body as she stood back up.

“Take off my shoes for me,” Margaery ordered as she unbuttoned her blazer and pointed her toes at Sansa.

Sansa walked over and kneeled before her. The stiletto heels could easily cut her face if Margaery wanted to, but as the woman continued to speak, Sansa found herself trusting her more and more.

“I am not unreasonable,” she mused as Sansa unstrapped the first heel and placed it gently on the ground. Her bare foot rested gently on her shoulder. “If you require something, let me know. I would be able to compromise if your demands are within bounds.”

“If I _refuse_ your request?” Sansa asked slowly as she unstrapped the second heel and peeled it off slowly.

"If you believe it is _unreasonable_.”

Sansa laughed dubiously for a second and silenced herself. The executive sat up and narrowed her eyes at Sansa. Whatever she was thinking, Sansa couldn’t read, but it wasn’t malicious.

"Stand up.” Sansa complied. She could feel her body get warmer and warmer as Margaery continued to stare at her. Her eyes raking in every inch. The brown haired beauty quirked her head to the side. “Touch yourself.”

Sansa gasped, scandalized at her request. “I _-I-I’ve_ never,” she blushed harder than before. She had never touched herself. No one had ever touched her. ** _No one_** _had **ever** touched her._ She cursed herself.

Margaery raised her eyebrows, confused as to what the issue was. She sat up on the bed and brought her hand between Sansa’s pale thighs. The redhead gasped as she watched Margaery’s hand slip between her legs. She could feel Margaery’s fingers dance between her legs, feeling her up with deliberate strokes.

She moaned as Margaery’s fingers slipped between her folds. When did she get so wet?

Her lips fell open into a perfect O in realization of Sansa's reservations in being touched. The mistress couldn't help but be pleased by this.

The fingers quickly disappeared and Sansa found her eyes looking at Margaery pleading. The woman smirked and licked her fingers clean. Sansa felt her whole body warm. Her juices were on Margaery’s fingers.

Margaery stood up, a few inches shorter than Sansa but still powerful than ever. Her presence changed everything for Sansa. She wanted to submit even though she was scared; she _trusted_ Margaery more than she wanted to admit.

“Take off my clothes.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Sansa said as she grasped the hem of Margaery’s blazer. She pushed it off the woman’s shoulders and let it fall to the ground before tugging the silk blouse from out of her skirt.

“ _Good girl_ ,” Margaery praised as her hand came up to Sansa’s breast.

Sansa froze at the sudden touch. She moaned as Margaery’s fingers came around her nipple, tugging with care.

“Continue.”

Sansa nodded and unbuttoned the blouse to reveal a black lace bra. Unconsciously her hand cupped her breast to mirror Margaery’s touches. She held back a moan as Margaery continued to tweak her nipple.

“I asked you to undress me.” Her voice was firm and strict that it sent shivers down her spine. The wetness pooled between her legs that she swore it would start slipping down her thighs.

Sansa gulped and reached behind Margaery and unzipped her skirt. It fell quickly after to reveal the matching lace panties that were held together with a garter to her stockings. Her eyes widened at the sight.

“Do you want me?” Margaery teased as her hand came up to tip Sansa’s chin back. Her lips ghosted the taller girl’s neck before pressing soft butterfly kisses against the warm skin.

Sansa was confused. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. She knew that whatever Margaery asked for, she would comply.

“Do you trust me?” Margaery continued to kiss as her hand found Sansa’s clit.

Sansa’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she nodded. _Fuck_ , she _**trusted** _ Margaery. _Why?_

“I won’t hurt you,” Margaery’s voice teased as her fingers slipped against her folds. One finger pressed into her entrance and Sansa instantly grabbed her shoulder. “Much.”

She could feel the smirk against her neck as Margaery’s kissed turn into a bite. Her other hand groped and massaged her breast. She pushed her finger inside Sansa past her barrier.

Her legs nearly gave out on her as Margaery entered her. A small whine came from the back of her throat as she felt her finger wriggle inside of her.

“ _Mar_ —”

“ **Mistress**.”

Sansa swallowed as she felt Margaery slide another finger inside of her. “ _ **Mistress**_ ,” she corrected herself as she moaned louder than before. “I’ve _**never**_ —”

“I _am_ taking my time,” Margaery informed as she waited for Sansa to adjust to the second finger. She bowed her head and sought Sansa’s breast. Her lips closed around her nipple.

“Mistress!” Sansa yelled suddenly as she reached for the back of Margaery’s head and held her in place. She had never felt that before. The sensation of someone ensnaring her like this. Her hips jerked at Margaery’s still fingers.

The older woman smirked once more and began moving her fingers in and out of Sansa. They were slow and gentle. But Sansa whined again, her hips rocked unconsciously. Margaery continued her strokes, this time pushing harder into her and sliding out mere centimeters before pushing back in.

Sansa gasped as her knees continued to buckle. Her hands grasped at Margaery harder.

“I will teach you how to please me,” Margaery said with promise as she watched Sansa close her eyes in pleasure. The red head bit her lip to stop anymore sounds from coming out of her even though her body reacted in all ways for Margaery’s touches. “Would you like that Sansa?”

Sansa nodded, drunk off of her touches. She wanted more of this. She wanted Margaery to keep going. She could feel the pit of her abdomen clench. It was different, frightening, but _fuck_ it felt **good**.

“Would you like me to please _you_?”

Sansa was afraid to nod. She gasped over and over as Margaery’s fingers pushed into her. It was her job to please her Mistress.

The movement ceased suddenly and Sansa cried out. She was near tears.

“You didn’t answer my question, _sweetling_ ,” Margaery teased as her lips ghosted over Sansa’s. Her tongue darted out for a taste.

"Yes, please, Mistress,” Sansa responded, strained.

“Please what?”

Sansa wanted to sob. She wanted Margaery to continue fucking her. _Why did she have to stop?_ She blushed though, knowing full well what Margaery wanted her to say.

“We will stop here, if you don’t beg.”

“No! Please, fuck me, please,” Sansa begged desperately. She didn’t know where it came from but she wanted it. She clenched tightly at Margaery.

“Please what?” Margaery asked almost curiously.

“Please fuck me, Mistress,” Sansa begged as she rocked her hips against Margaery’s fingers.

“Only because you begged.”

Margaery began thrusting her fingers with purpose. Hitting every wall as she curled her fingers inside of the redhead. Sansa was close, she could feel it. The clenching of her muscles as her wetness dripped down her thighs copiously.

 _It pleased her._ She wanted her like this. _**At her mercy.**_ Sansa was _**willing** _ to be at her mercy.

Sansa came with a scream as she wrapped her arms around Margaery for support.

Margaery urged the girl to stand. She stared in awe as the pale flesh turned pink from the orgasm. Sansa trembled as she stood, her knees visibly shaking.

“Do you think we’re done?” Margaery asked as she licked her fingers of Sansa once more. “Lay down. I still have to break you in.”

Sansa muttered, “Yes, Mistress,” as she laid down on the bed. She felt herself sinking in, exhausted from her powerful orgasm.

“I won’t hurt you, Sansa,” Margaery promised as she crawled above Sansa and leaned down to the kiss her, “ _unless you want me to_.” Her hand cupped her arse and Sansa blushed.

_Maybe, just maybe, she could live with this._


	2. The Next Morning

The quick bursts of footsteps against the ornate wooden floor echoed through the halls followed by shouts and screams.

"Protect Lady Catelyn!"

"The children!"

The loud banging followed. The muffled sound of splitting wood crackled. The shattering of porcelain echoed. 

It was only a matter of time before they found her.

She could hear them through the door. The loud footsteps stopped in front of her door. There was the sound of clicking metal, the cocking of the gun. 

Through the sliver of the closet door, Sansa peaked to ease her fears. She could see her septa hiding behind the door with a long sword that had been kept in the Stark household for generations. 

" Where is the daughter ?" The muffled voices came.

Just as the doorknob began to jiggle, a man roared in pain.

"THE BLASTED BASTARD. GET THE YOUNG STARK  NOW !"

Sansa felt her heart shake in fear.  Arya? Bran? Rickon? Were they close to getting away?

The shattering of wood intermingled with the squealing of the door hinges. Sansa threw her hand over her mouth to stop from yelling. A single guard stood at her doorway and she watched as the septa threw up her arms to whip the sword at him. The Old Valyrian steel clanged against the gun in his arms and he recoiled as the blade was pushed forward to kill.

Suddenly, shots were fired, an ugly tear of metal against metal startled Sansa. Blood splattered everywhere.  The sword was sheathed into the guard as more bullets grated, struggling to leave the barrel. Sansa could feel the bile climbing up her throat as a squelching noise and strangled breath fell between the guard and her septa. 

Silence fell briefly and Sansa struggled to stand. 

Her septa rolled off the dead guard and looked at her, bleeding out slowly from the bullet holes littered in her body. "Run, Lady Sansa," she beseeched weakly. " Run ." With an exhale, her body fell limp.

Sansa shook as the tears burned her eyes. She could hear the voices outside yelling and chasing, screams of her maids and butlers begging for mercy, the Stark's personal guards fighting to protect them. 

The door to her closet swung open and she opened her mouth to scream. A large hand fell on her lips quickly. As the tears fell, she could make out a large man, whose face was half burned off. Her body was lifted off the ground.

He was dressed as one of them, but he made no motion to alert anyone else. There was a glint in his eyes, either of sadness or guilt, Sansa couldn't comprehend it.

"Run through the woods as far south as you can, I will be there to protect you Lady Stark." His voice was gruff and unforgiving.

Sansa couldn't honestly believe him, but she did as she was told. If she could get away now, she would at least be alive. He pushed her roughly out of her room. She couldn't stay any longer. 

Winterfell Manor was overrun. It was no longer hers. 

She made her way as quickly as she could. She rushed into her father’s study to find the secret passageway Arya had uncovered years ago. She crept as quickly as she could through the passage until she met the end of the tunnel. 

The cool summer breeze whipped across her face. The treeline was in sight and she ran for it. And she kept running. Running as fast as she could. As far as she could.

Her lungs began to burn. And her legs began to ache. Soon her whole body fell into fatigue. It was sore all over. A root caught her foot and she fell.

Her stomach dropped, her heart seized, and the air from her lungs disappeared.

Her eyes snapped open to a blinding brightness.

It took a moment to adjust her eyes to the morning sunrise. She could already feel the warmth of the sun peaking over the horizon. 

Sansa took a moment to breath. It was a nightmare. An unfortunate echo of a memory she couldn't shake.

She shifted underneath the plush comforter and felt the soreness between her legs shooting down her legs. She bit her lip to hold back the moan fighting to come up her throat. 

The memories of the night before filled her mind. Her dream was real. Turning away from the windows, here was confirmation in the form of Margaery Tyrell. Her new mistress laid dormant next to her, naked shoulder peaking over the covers. 

Sansa blushed at the realization of her own nakedness. There was a mark at Margaery's shoulder. A small imprint of her teeth. Sansa's core tingled. She remembered her mistress pushing her hips down onto the bed as her three fingers stretched her; she didn't want to scream and clamped her mouth over the soft flesh as she succumbed to the erotic ministrations.

It was strange and unexpected of how just the night before there was fear of the Tyrell executive. Now, as she laid awake next to her mistress, she hadn't had any fear. Just curiosity. The curiosity of her mistress’ choice in her.

Margaery Tyrell was a goddess amongst humans. It didn’t take Sansa long to figure that out. Her golden brown curls perfectly lined her face as she slept soundly but not peacefully. There was a small  crease between her eyebrows as she slept as if contemplating things. But she was  young , or at least  looked it. The woman had experience, far more than Sansa had and when she taught Sansa how to feel and reciprocate their sex, it was if she had been doing it for years.

" It's rude to stare. "

Sansa jumped out of her thoughts quickly as soon as the words fell from her mistress's lips. She clutched the covers closer to her chest. 

Margaery opened her eyes with a Cheshire like smile, unbothered by the morning sunlight. Her hand slithered under the covers.

An abashed gasp fell from Sansa's lips as Margaery's hand slipped between her thighs, inching further up slowly with gentle caresses.

"Mistress," Sansa whispered as an apology. Her body felt exhausted. Every inch of her was sore. 

In a swift moment Margaery pounced. 

A small breeze fell between the sheets, sending shivers down her spine as Margaery pressed her body tightly against Sansa. She straddled the young girl with her hands boxing either side of Sansa's head. Her hair cascade down to form a chestnut curtain.

"Sansa," she greeted playfully before showering her lips with gentle kisses.

Sansa couldn’t help but return the kisses, savoring each one. She couldn’t help but hold her hands close to her chest to hide her nakedness. 

Margaery turned her head and whispered, "Are you not satisfied?"

Sansa clenched her thighs. Her cheeks flared. Her body was quickly betraying her as Margaery nibbled gently at her earlobe, down the column of her neck, into the crook of her neck. She moaned as the nibbles turned into sucking. Her hands remained clenched against her chest, but she wanted more than anything to touch her mistress.

"Don't ever deny yourself pleasure, my sweetling." Margaery's voice was tender and unwavering. She sat up with a gentle roll of her hips and Sansa could feel the pooling wetness between her thighs. 

"I am not," Sansa said defiantly. After the previous night her body was overwrought with pleasure. If Margaery were to take her again, she was sure to die.

The older woman laughed. She brought her hands to Sansa's wrists and coaxed them free of their own imaginary binds. Her fingers relaxed Sansa's with a gentle caress before pressing their fingers against one another in a dance.

"Don't ever lie to me," Margaery responded with a playful undertone of power. She interlocked her right hand in Sansa's left. Sansa clenched her jaw. "I will know." Her left hand slid down the porcelain skin between them and she shifted to settle their bodies like puzzle pieces. 

The pads of her fingers pushed against Sansa's clitoris to elicit a hiss. 

Sansa bit her lip once more and looked towards the canopy of the bed.  Seven save me .

Margaery giggled deviously as her fingers slid between the wet folds. "Touch me," she ordered. 

A digit slid into Sansa and she cried out. Her pussy still raw but readily dripping. Her body shook almost violently. Her hand felt like lead as she brought it down between their bodies.

This time, her mistress hissed as Sansa scraped her nails gently against her folds. The Stark froze, ready to apologize.

"Good girl," Margaery praised instead as her hand clenched Sansa's. "When I teach you to please me, what do you think I expect of you?"

"For me to do well?"

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek at yet another cheeky comment.

" Mm , I should punish you for your mouth."

"You asked, Mistress."

Margaery pushed a second finger into her more deeply and less forgiving. Her fingers started to explore her slowly, pushing against her walls more fully. 

Sansa's body seized completely in response she whimpered at the touches.

"Now," Margaery grunted. "Your fingers in me please." She pumped in and out slowly.

Sansa swallowed thickly and nodded. Her body was humming as if she were ready to explode. Her heavy hand came up to the older woman's mound once more and she inserted her middle and ring fingers just as she was directed the night before.

Their hands moved in tandem with one another. Together there was an undeniable rhythm that pushed them closer to their climax. Sansa watched in fascination as her mistress began to move her hips against her fingers. She could feel the dip of her knees burying themselves into the bed as Sansa also dug her heels into the bed. The low, hot breaths pressed against her chest. 

"You are such a quick study," Margaery said almost proudly. Her eyes fell shut as she pushed deeper into Sansa.

At the sudden jerk, Sansa's body jumped and her head bumped the headboard. Sansa held her tongue. She stifled the moan of satisfaction and buried her face into the crook of Margaery's neck. 

"Are you close?" Margaery mumbled. Her pace quickened.

Sansa's hips jumped. She didn’t make a sound as she nodded into the brown curls.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the low thumping of the headboard against the wall, gentle rhythmic shifting in the mattress, and Margaery's low breathy moans. 

Sansa felt her body tighten once more. Her core quivered as Margaery's fingers pushed in and out. She could feel the clenching muscles of her mistress around her fingers. They were massaging her with purposeful rhythm. She tried to remain focused on pleasing Margaery.

But Margaery uttered, "Come now."

A sudden and loud moan ripped from the back of Sansa's throat at the demand. she shut her eyes so tightly she saw stars behind them. In the back of her senses, she could feel Margaery tumble into her own orgasm.

Their hands held one another for dear life.

Sansa shook terribly. Her body felt shocked between pleasure and pain. Her mind couldn’t comprehend it as she rode her orgasm. As she came down, she couldn’t hold back the whimpers. 

It wasn’t until she felt a warm hand against her cheek that she opened her eyes. The large brown eyes looked right through into her soul. Sansa averted her eyes.

"Look at me." Sansa bit the inside of her cheek and did as she was told. Margaery stared inquisitively. "When you are  fucking me-" Sansa blushed instantly "-I want you to  take me . With purpose. With want. With power. You will learn, Sansa Stark, to take what rightfully belongs to you."

The Tully blue eyes stared into the deep brown eyes that seemed to burn so passionately. Sansa felt her heart pound as if Margaery had given her Winterfell and the North back. 


	3. Lessons in speaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds out how life as Margaery's slave will play out. Her first lesson is learning how to bite her tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the late update. I’ve been sitting on this chapter for awhile I should’ve mentioned. Hopefully, I can write more often as my program comes to a close and we have free time. The plot is going to thicken by the way, so it’ll be like 50/50 plot and sex.

It was strange that the six biggest families in all of Westeros rarely crossed paths at the same moment. Then again, what was Sansa to expect, she was never required to attend political events or donor galas just yet.

As the luxurious spray of warm water shot from the nozzle to massage her body, Sansa couldn't help but wonder if at any point Margaery had traveled north to Winterfell while she was away at university.

She bit the inside of her cheek as the longing for her family panged in her chest. She hadn't heard news of her family in months.

Whether they were dead, alive, or _-Seven, please let them be safe_ , Sansa's time underground had kept her alive. She had survived what she had never thought possible. Of all the things to have happened, landing in the hands of Margaery Tyrell for a day was more promising than living under the constant eyes of buyers, seller, and that **traitorous** _Petyr Baelish_.

Her fists clenched against the cool marble wall as the water continued its cleanse. She could feel her knees buckle as she quelled the raging fears inside of her. There was never a safe moment under the eyes of Petyr Baelish, a man whom she thought was her _family_. The filthy, disturbed rat had revealed his true colors with the look in his eyes like a hawk to its prey.

" _Sansa_?" Margaery's voice drew her back from sliding away completely.

Through the steamed glass doors of her shower, Sansa could see her mistress in her peach silk robe hugging her curves and hair done in cascading waves. Sansa thought to cover herself.

There was a smirk at Margaery’s lips that indicated covering herself up would be futile. "I am expected in the office soon. I have a few things to discuss before I leave."

_Oh._ Sansa merely nodded. Margaery was waiting on her she realized. She swallowed before responding, "I'll just be a moment."

Margaery nodded and shut the door, leaving Sansa once more to her privacy.

When Sansa had finished her shower, before the question crossed her mind, a fresh set of clothes sat next to the sink for her. As she slipped on the simple outfit fashioned for her, she couldn't help but wonder how long Margaery had planned for her arrival or knew of her status. Or had Margaery even known she was alive before seeing the files? Did she buy her knowing that Petyr Baelish was selling her?

Sansa stared at herself in the reflection as she slipped on the crisp white blouse and tucked it into her her jeans. It had been so long since she's been able to study herself in the mirror. She could see the tired eyes from sleepless nights and her sharp cheekbones from hunger; the one thing that remained constant was the Tully hair, just like her mother's, vibrant as ever.

When Sansa stepped out of the lavish bathroom, she honestly doesn’t know what to expect. Margaery’s tone was completely neutral, leaving Sansa to wonder.

“ _Continue your investigation and report back to me later this week,”_ she caught the tail end of Margaery’s words as she emerged around the corner of the bed.

It felt odd. It was as if Sansa was out of place. She stood there awkwardly, hand pressed against one of the posts of the bed, hair down and slightly dripping.

There was another woman standing across from the brunette. A red haired beauty, close to Margaery’s age but bearing no striking resemblance.

“Lady Margaery,” she regarded with a playful jerk of her head towards Sansa.

There was a small level of comfort that Sansa felt in noting the Northern accent she had similar to Sansa’s, even if it wasn’t as refined. The woman looked vaguely familiar but Sansa couldn’t quite spot her.

Margaery looked over to Sansa and held a tight lipped smile.

It was as if Margaery was a different person. Sansa stood there staring, taking in this new version of Margaery. It wasn’t as if her eyes weren’t the same piercing blue or her lips weren’t perpetually smirking. The air Margaery held was just different.

“Sansa.” Margaery raised a hand to beckon her to the pair.

Obediently, Sansa walked over to the pair and instinctively took her place next to Margaery. It seemed like the proper thing to do.

Margaery remained a foot away from Sansa as she looked at the red haired woman before them. “This is Ros,” she introduced simply. “Ros will be your septa from now on. She will teach you what you will need to know from here on out.”

“What will I be learning?” Sansa asked quickly.

“She’s curious,” Ros noted aloud with an impressed smile. “I have a feeling she is going to need a lot of lessons.”

As a Stark, Sansa tried not to wince at the mischievous tone Ros considered her with. She gave a hard glare instead. She will not be treated any less than she deserved.

“If you require anything, Ros will know how to supply it for you,” Margaery added curtly. “Today, when I return, I expect your presence here.”

Sansa winced at the implication of Margaery's order. Her fists tightened at her sides. She could still feel the soreness from the night before.

The executive didn’t say anything further. Her expression was dark and tone was strict. The way she spoke had unintentionally cut at Sansa’s spirit. Margaery grabbed her briefcase and jacket before exiting the room. Just as Sansa had watched Margaery enter the room, her exit was equally as powerful and dignified.

It took a moment for Sansa to realize that Ros was standing there studying her. The older woman rounded Sansa, holding herself with an arm, while the other hand tapped at her lips thoughtfully.

“Is there a reason why you are _inspecting_ me?” Sansa asked sharply. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable under Ros’ eyes.

The Northern woman paused her step. “Think before you speak, Lady Sansa, it will do you good as we move forward.” The way she spoke came off as more advising than threatening. “The Lady Tyrell has very specific needs that very few parties are privy to. Talking back to her is **not** _advised_.”

Sansa knew that. She remembered the playfully veiled threats while Margaery’s fingers were buried between her thighs.

“Come, I will give you a proper tour of the grounds and what will be most pertinent to you.”

Ros moved towards the door with Sansa following closely behind her.

The older woman knew her way around the estate with ease. They navigated their way down to the first floor, through an immensely large kitchen, dining hall, ballroom, living room, and conservatory. If there were things that Sansa needed for Margaery, she made note of it.

“Margaery does not require much after dinner. However, if she does require a glass of wine, go to the cellar. If she requires any other foods, the kitchen will available for you to make something for her.”

_She was to make Margaery food._ “I am _sorry_?” Sansa said in confusion. “I am not a _chef_.”

Ros narrowed her eyes and let out a sigh. “Of course. We will begin lessons for you next week.”

They made their way outside. As soon as the doors open, it felt as if Sansa had entered a new world. The breeze gently kissed her cheeks and the sunlight warmed her body. For the first time in a long time she felt refreshed.

“The rose garden needs to be tended to on occasion. We have gardeners but if you find yourself listless, you may tend to it.” There is a small smile on Ros’ face as she noted it. “It is to my understanding that your family also had a greenhouse back at Winterfell.”

Sansa felt her heart warm as they made their way through the maze of a rose garden. There were far more than roses as they ventured through. When she had spotted a winter rose, there was a deep sense of longing for home but she was comforted by its presence.

“The lady’s orders are very simple,” Ros began as they passed through the rose garden to another small home. In another life, it could have been considered a small cottage. “You will continue your higher education with private tutors in politics, economics, and history. You will be required to keep up to date with current events. You will maintain your physical fitness on a daily basis.”

“Is there a purpose behind these orders?” Sansa asked with bitterness in her tone.

“You belong to Lady Margaery,” Ros answered simply. She crossed her arms as they stood before the small home. “She is allowing you to continue your life--”

“As a _slave_?”

“As a **growing** _woman_ ,” the septa corrected instantly. She was far different from the septas her parents had for her growing up. This woman was far less obedient to Sansa and more authoritative.

“Am I not just here for her to _fuck_ me?” Sansa tried not to let her voice crack at the reality of her situation. It was unfair but it was far cry from a lie.

The look on Ros’ face softened slightly to sympathy. She sighed before she said, “That is something you are to discuss with Margaery.” There is a bit of resignation in her voice. “I am just here as your septa. It is important for you to be groomed as a member of Margaery’s servants. As a young woman, you need to be educated and aware of the world around you. Margaery is doing this for your benefit.”

Sansa couldn’t possibly believe all that Ros was saying. “What is the _point_?” the Stark threw back angrily. There was no point. “My family has been named _traitors_ to the nation. I’ve _lost_ everything we’ve ever had. I don’t even know if anyone is **safe** or **_alive_**. What is the _point_ of me doing all of this when I was sold as a **sex slave**?!”

Her body shook. Her heart pounded. Sansa felt an array of unbridled emotions, she didn’t realize she still held. She wanted to hurt something. Someone. The people who smeared her families name. Those who made her fear for her life. _She wanted them to pay._

The septa before her reached out to grip her by her arms. She locked their eyes together.

“Lady Sansa, no one understands your situation more than I do,” Ros admitted carefully. Sansa saw the truth in her eyes; they were sad and broken underneath the shine of play and mirth. “I was taken at a far younger age as a slave. Moving from one owner to the next. The things that have been done to me are things I would never wish for another person to experience.

You have to learn to become a real _lady_. You have to be willing to bow your head and shut your mouth so that you can survive. You have to trust me when I say that being in Lady Margaery’s hands will be far more than anything you can ask for. All of these orders are not placed to harm you. They are here to make you _better_.”

_Better for what?_

Sansa didn’t respond. She listened to the words carefully and tried to decipher what Ros meant. It was as if she was a pawn in this situation, being trained and groomed for something she couldn’t comprehend yet. All she could do was nod.

The rest of the day Sansa found herself in her mind. Quiet. Thinking. Exhausted. She didn’t realize how exhausted she had been since the news of her family had first broken out. Or when Winterfell was overrun.

She followed Ros around for the day. A private doctor came to the estate to examine her. Her private tutors introduced her to the lessons she would be taking. Ros did a diagnostic test on her physical capabilities and further explained Margaery’s likes and dislikes. By the end of it, Sansa wished she had been more diligent in paying attention.

She could worry about it later.

When Ros had finished with Sansa, she told her that there would be a lot of time that was unoccupied by Margaery’s orders. Whatever, Sansa required she was to seek Ros and Ros would accompany her in any of her needs.

Sansa retired to the library. The only place in all of Highgarden that hadn’t seemed to be entered often, which Sansa was grateful for. She spent hours walking along the tall walls of books, hands grazing the spines thoughtfully. She picked at certain titles, reminding herself to read them later. It brought her comfort that there was one place she could escape everything.

After a few hours and halfway through _Florian and Jonquil_ , the sound of the doors opened. Sansa looked up to see Ros standing in the doorway.

"Lady Tyrell has returned," she simply announced.

Sansa nodded and placed the book down on the small desk near her. She could come for it later.

It was an odd feeling to realize that your body belonged to someone else. There was trepidation and apprehension rooted in the fact that the future was _fickle_. For those who were not in power the future could be present and absent at the same time.

Yet for Sansa, she had to _survive_. Ros had told her to do what she needed to do in order to survive.

The door clicked open and the tell tale echoes of Margaery’s heels followed.

Sansa turned her attention from the tall window and gazed at Margaery’s entrance.

It was like seeing a coin being flipped. When Margaery had left in the morning, her demeanor was cold and stiff. Now, as she walked through the door, the very first Margaery Sansa had met made her appearance. There were tired eyes and heavy shoulders but all the confidence and power in the world as she strode into the room.

Out of habit, Margaery placed her briefcase down on the couch and threw her jacket on top of it.

"Come here, Sansa," Margaery ordered. There was a hint of exhaustion in her voice as well. Sansa made a note in her mind before walking over to her mistress.

She didn't say anything. It was disconcerting how much Margaery could impose her power over Sansa without a single word. Her stomach was doing flips as Margaery grabbed her hands and entangled their fingers.

The shorter woman raised their hands besides their bodies and flattened their palms against one another. With a quirk of her head up, Sansa bowed her head to allow her lips to be captured. To think that this woman could control her in all respects.

Their lips slid across one another with practiced ease as if they were made for one another. Margaery knew when to tease Sansa, sucking down on her bottom lip before tugging it to elicit a moan. Sansa let her, part of her wanted it, wanted Margaery to do this too her. Margaery slid her tongue across her lips briefly seeking entrance. Sansa breathed in sharply with the feeling of Margaery’s tongue sliding deliciously against hers.

Her palms pressed flush against Margaery’s. Her fingers bent, nails scratching at the woman's finger tips. Wanting to grasp her hand but seeking permission.

It felt like they had been kissing forever. Sansa felt like her mind was swimming in an unfathomable ocean as Margaery slowly pulled away, letting Sansa lean forward for more.

When she opened her eyes, she could see Margaery’s bruised lips and wondered if hers were a mirror image. A warm sensation shot to her core instantly at the thought.

"Mistress," Sansa whispered to shatter the silence that fell between them. She couldn't stand staring at her mistress and not speak. There were a myriad of things Sansa wanted to say, _feelings to express_ , but Ros warned her against it.

"How was your first day?" Margaery asked as her hands brought Sansa's to press flat against the lapels of her blazer.

Sansa felt the cool silk lining on the lapels as Margaery guided her hands just underneath the lapels, against the crisp fabric of her blouse. She moved her hands up to Margaery’s shoulders and felt the tension just at the base of her neck. She squeezed it gently to ease her body and watched as Margaery rolled her neck in response.

" _Sansa_."

"It was well, mistress," Sansa answered with her focus still on the way Margaery felt against her hands.

She hadn't realized how much she wanted to touch her mistress. There was something that put her at ease to be able to touch her mistress. Sansa committed the location of the tension in her neck to memory as Margaery slid their hands to the buttons of her blazer. Sansa plucked them open one by one.

"Was Ros able to set your mind at _ease_?" When her blazer fell open, Margaery took control of Sansa's hands once more, guiding them to her chest, crinkling the blouse, running it up and down for Sansa to cup her breasts.

The Stark instinctively squeezed and stared as the brunette's breathing change. "Ease to _what_?" she asked in return forgetting to bite her tongue.

Margaery quirked an eyebrow at her and brought her hands to her buttons. Sansa undid them slowly. "As to whether or not I am a monster," she answered casually.

Sansa nearly stopped unbuttoning the blouse when the word monster fell from her mistress' lips. Of course, Margaery was her mistress. She was her slave. There was a novel of ideas that Sansa had ti describe Margaery but monster slipped her mind. She let the jury remain out on the decision.

"Should I have reason to believe you’re a monster?" Sansa daringly asked instead. Maybe Ros was correct to say that her mouth was going to get her into trouble. But her mistress allowed for this line of questioning.

The blouse fell open to reveal a shimmering purple bra befitting to a woman of royalty.

"It depends," Margaery began as she stepped back to unbutton her trousers and let them pool at her ankles. She stepped out of her heels, dropping two more inches, and moved to sit on the couch. Sansa tried not to gawk at Margaery’s perfectly round ass that was covered by a sliver of fabric. "Does it scare you to speak back to me?"

Sansa shook her head almost instantly as Margaery sat down on the couch. Her legs spread with her blouse and blazer falling open.

"Then I have _better_ things for your _mouth_ to do." Her words are salacious and tone devious. It sent shivers down Sansa spine. "Kneel before me."

The red head nodded. A part of her completely enamored by Margaery’s body. The way the executive held herself made Sansa _want_ to kneel.

When she was settled in between her mistress' legs, Margaery’s hand tugged at the back of Sansa's head, not painfully but not quite gently either. Sansa let out a small moan as Margaery’s fingers entangled themselves in her hair.

"Do you remember how it felt to have my tongue against your cunt?" Her breath was hot against Sansa's face as she spoke. Or maybe it was Sansa's cheeks flushing at the vulgar language. Sansa shut her eyes and nodded feeling the tug of her hair sending shockwaves down her spine.

Margaery leaned back slowly into the couch with her hand guiding Sansa's face between her legs.

There was a sense of serenity that came to Sansa's mind as her senses filled with Margaery's scent. She was far from being seduced. She was surrendering to Margaery.

Margaery’s fingers came down and tugged aside the fabric that daintily covered her folds. It must have been the contrast of cool air and Sansa's hot breath that made her let out a sigh. "Fingers, first. Then use your mouth." The red head swallowed thickly, afraid to disappoint her mistress. "I want you to taste me and remember that there are better uses for your mouth."

There was uncertainty stewing in her mind as Margaery’s fingers slacked in her hair.

Sansa licked her lips. She hadn't realized that despite being wholly inexperienced in pleasing a partner, she held a deep sense of desire and arousal. Or maybe it was Margaery that had made her feel this way.

She raised two fingers to Margaery's folds and gasped as her fingers slid against them with ease.

" _Mm. Yes._ "

She was soft. _Wet_. Sansa thought that Margaery was dripping down her fingers. She tried to mimic the way that Margaery touched her the night before. She pushed up towards her clitoris and rubbed. Again, her mistress moaned in approval, legs falling apart even further.

When her rubbing pushed her mistress' hips to jump, Sansa slid her fingers towards her entrance and listened as a guttural groan ripped from the back of Margaery's throat the second she dipped her fingers in. Her eyes shot up and stared at her mistress in awe.

Margaery had one arm thrown across the back of the couch as her head lolled back in pleasure. Sansa watched the ripples of her abdominal muscles and encased breasts move up and down with her panting. There was a small shift of her hips against her fingers and Sansa found her pushing deeper into Margaery's heat.

Sansa looked at her fingers as she moved them in and out slowly and deeply. Her mouth dried seeing the slickness sliding out of her mistress. She was suddenly thirsty.

"Harder."

Sansa obeyed. Margaery moaned wantonly. Suddenly, she was parched.

_Fingers, first. Then mouth._

Sansa ducked her head down and pulled her fingers out just enough to peak her tongue out for a taste of Margaery’s dripping wetness. It was Sansa who moaned this time, thoroughly enjoying the sweetness of her mistress.

Margaery’s fingers tightened in her red locks once more, beckoning her to continue. "That's right, little dove, _eat me_."

Sansa sighed in satisfaction as she pulled out her fingers completely to push Margaery's legs further apart. She lapped up the juices before licking swirls at her entrance. It felt as if her stomach dropped off the edge of a cliff and every emotions she's ever felt pooled in between her legs. She didn’t realize she could aroused pleasing someone else.

She reveled in the sensation because as much as Margaery controlled her, she could take what she wanted from her. She pushed her tongue in as far as she could, tasting as much of the older woman as she could. The way she tasted was intoxicating and Sansa just wanted more.

With every second that had passed, Sansa had used it as an opportunity to learn how her tongue could manipulate her mistress. She noted when Margaery’s hips would jump if she darted her tongue in and out, when she would tighten her grip in her hair if she accidentally brushed her nose against her clit, when she would shiver if she licked her entrance up and down thoroughly.

Sansa had a curiosity in the back of her mind. She slowly licked up to Margaery’s engorged nub and sucked on gently and noted how almost violently Margaery’s thighs quivered. She remembered how Margaery had made her come with her fingers and wanted her to feel the same.

She pushed two fingers into her mistress and continued to suck on her clit. Margaery pushed her harder between her legs and tugged tightly at her hair. Sansa reveled in the way Margaery tugged because she could begin to feel her walls tighten around her fingers. She pumped them in and out quickly and flicked her tongue back and forth against her clit. The rhythm grew faster to push Margaery closer to coming.

Sansa pressed her tongue flat against her clit and Margaery came with a loud moan. A sense of pride swelled in the Stark's chest when Margaery said her name, ragged and husky from orgasm.

Margaery recovered quickly and pulled Sansa's fingers out of her cunt, her wetness dripping onto the couch slightly. She guided Sansa to stand and pulled her closer. "Straddle my lap," she merely said as she moved to lick Sansa's fingers.

Sansa shivered and complied with a slight embarrassment. Her legs on either side of Margaery’s thighs and she could feel her own heat as she settled on her lap.

Margaery moaned with pleasure as she licked her juices off Sansa's fingers.

Her breathing became erratic at the sight and feeling of Margaery’s tongue and mouth expertly navigating around her fingers.

She released Sansa's fingers with a low pop. The color of her eyes darkened with arousal as she stared right through to Sansa's soul. "Satisfied?" There is a lilt of teasing in her voice.

Sansa nodded almost unsure. Because her mistress is sensual and seductive. The heat was pooled in between her thighs to the point of discomforted. She wasn't sure where it was coming from but she resisted the urge to grind her hips down against the other woman's.

It didn’t matter because the smirk that continually played on the Tyrell's lips was sure enough. Margaery began unbuttoning her pants with a wondrous look in her eyes. "Are you wet, love?" She teased almost unfairly.

Sansa gasped as Margaery’s fingers slipped under her waistband. Her back rose from the couch, hand pushing in at an angle to reach her entrance. "Yes, mistress," she answered honestly and needy. Her arms clutched at Margaery’s blazer as her hips rose slightly to make it easier for her mistress to gain access.

God, she wanted it. She wanted Margaery to touch her. It was so instinctual. It was necessary. If Margaery didn't touch her, Sansa didn’t know what she would do.

She cried out as two fingers pushed into her tight pussy. She instantly clenched around Margaery’s fingers, wanting to take her in deeper.

" **Now** you are _obedient_?" Margaery noted with that same teasing tone.

Sansa couldn’t speak. She couldn’t form words in her mind whatsoever. She just nodded furiously, eyes shut. She fell forward into Margaery's neck, breathing in her rose shampoo and Chanel perfume. Her hips jumped up and down against Margaery’s fingers.

There was a light laugh in the back of her mind, sure enough, it was from Margaery. She could feel Sansa dripping in her pants and clenching around her fingers. She was close to coming. _So close_ , when suddenly, Margaery pulled out her fingers. Her body whined instantly and she wanted to cry at the emptiness.

"Mistress...," she begged. Not entirely sure why Margaery had stopped.

"Are you going to _watch your mouth_ , little dove?" The look in her eyes is no longer playful. It's serious.

Sansa tried to unscramble her sexually frustrated mind. Yet, she managed to keep her mouth shut of the snark ready to come out of her thoughts. All she could do was nod.

There will be another battle that she could win, until then she lets Margaery conquer her, letting her feel pleasure over and over that night. And she kept her mouth shut because there will always be another time for words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also at my tumblr nocteverbascio


	4. Touch me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has been feeling distracted all day. The sole reason is Margaery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahead includes conversations about sex, updates on the Starks in the real world, and masturbation
> 
> does that make sense? i dont know its 2am how am i awake

Sansa had learned, in her brief time studying at a university, that self motivation was a difficulty she rarely faced. She had always remained focused, determined, and diligent in the work she was assigned. Her motivation was unyielding in the first year even as she watched her peers become distracted with extracurriculars and partying.

However, at that time, Sansa didn’t have distractions. She had sheer  _determination_ in making her family proud. She had a  _duty_ to perform.

“You look extremely  _distracted_ today, Sansa.” 

Sansa blinked a few times at the sound of her name before realizing where she even was.

They had taken the sun room as their own that afternoon. Ros sat quietly with her tea reading the paper for the day, while Sansa had brought her textbooks in an attempt to finish her assignments. The window was cracked open to let the cool wintry air seep through the room as the sunlight of high noon passed over them. It was the perfect setup for productivity.

She looked down at her notes and realized at some point her neat handwriting turned into a doodling scrawl.  _Oh lord._  She crossed out the useless notes and moved to take a sip of her tea.

It was  _rare_ for Sansa to lose focus.

It took her a second to realize that it wasn’t entirely her fault at all. It was  _Margaery’s_. Her  _mistress_ was the  _cause_ of her loss of focus.

There wasn’t anyone special in Sansa’s life to distract her while she was in college. She had friends, but no significant other. While Margaery wasn’t a significant other, she was a physical attachment that was leaving lasting effects on Sansa’s  _body_. For someone who was notably older than Sansa, Margaery was full of energy. Energy in the sense that their  _bedroom activities_ were Sansa’s  _extracurriculars_.

Sansa looked up from her tea to see Ros staring at her with curiosity.  _Maybe Ros would know what to do..._

“Is there something that you wanted to ask?” Ros seemed to know what Sansa was thinking constantly.

Sansa bit her lip, debating her offer. It wasn’t like Ros didn’t know what Margaery and Sansa were up to in the master bedroom. Sometimes Sansa reminded herself not to scream for fear that someone would hear them.

She blushed unconsciously. It’s not like she had talked to her parents about sex when she had first dated Joffrey once. When they tried, she was adamant about that not being an issue for them to worry about. To be honest, Sansa hadn’t thought about why she said that but with Margaery, she had questions.

Starting with, “Ros, is it odd for me to feel  _comfortable_ with Margaery as my mistress?”

Her septa folded the newspaper close and leaned forward with curiosity. “What do you mean by comfortable?”

“ _Sexually_ comfortable?”

Ros held back a small giggle. “Prior to Margaery have you ever thought you’d want to have sex with anyone you liked?”

Sansa thought back and shook her head. Joffrey was a stupid high school crush and since then, her focus had changed. There were a few beautiful people in her circle of friends but they were all women and she was apprehensive about the “college experimenting.”

“By all means, do not feel like Margaery is the  _basis_ for  _how_ sexual relations with women work. Your presence here is quite unconventional to say the least,” Ros reasoned. Sansa agreed. If she hadn’t been bought by Margaery, she wouldn’t have this experience. “Were you repulsed by the idea of being sold to a woman?”

Sansa shook her head. “I was more  _afraid_ than anything. I had heard what happened with Jeyne Westerling and Cersei Baratheon.”

“Oh lord, Margaery is  _nothing_ like Cersei,” her septa insisted leaving no room for argument. She plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it into her mouth. “Margaery is the kindest person I’ve had the pleasure of working  _under_.” She smirked briefly.

Sansa caught the smirk and looked at Ros. “Have  _you_ and Margaery  _ever_?”

Ros raised an eyebrow, as if asking if Sansa really wanted to know. “Just once,” she answered honestly. “It was enjoyable but not Margaery’s preference to be honest.”

“And how do  _I_  match her preference?” Sansa asked curiously. Even Loras had mentioned it once that Margaery would need her now more than ever and her profile was the one Margaery chose.

“You’re young, beautiful,  _practically_ an heiress to a noble family,” Ros threw out casually with a shrug. Sansa pouted at being called an ‘heiress,’ she was  _far_ from it now. “Margaery is extremely private sometimes, but all I can say for sure is that I think she enjoys being in control. Margaery had a specific function when she hired me, sex was  _not_ on list.”

Sansa nodded in understanding. There were very few times that Margaery would talk to Sansa. It generally circled around pleasant small talk and small blips of knowledge Margaery would impart. Nevertheless, Sansa knew almost nothing about her mistress but she felt... _distracted_.

“So, since that one time,” Sansa began to segue into her actual question, “have you ever thought about her again?”

“Do you mean do I want to have sex with her again?” Sansa nodded and Ros shook her head. “While Margaery is extremely attractive, I’ve never harbored a desire or  _need_ to sleep with her. Our relationship now is purely professional.”

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. So why does she feel a craving for Margaery?

“What’s wrong, Sansa? I feel like you aren’t asking the questions that you want to.”

This time Sansa sighed. She might as well be honest. “I feel  _distracted_.”

“I gathered,” Ros quipped playfully.

Sansa furrowed her brows. “I’m glad I made that  _apparent_ ,” she returned sarcastically. “What I mean to say is that, I am distracted because of Margaery. At first, I thought that with how often we- _-you know_ \--”

“ _Have sex_?” Ros supplied. Sansa felt herself heat up. “We’ve been talking about sex for a bit now, you can say the word.”

“I know that I can say  _it_ ,” Sansa insisted. This is why she never wanted to have a conversation about sex. It always made her embarrassed. “As I was  _saying_ , at first, I thought that with how often we have sex, I was just exhausted and needed to recover but now, I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking about  _her_ and when I do.. _.I get distracted_.” She pursed her lips, not sure how to explain herself further.

Ros shared a small knowing smile. “Do you feel  _unsatisfied_?”

“A bit?”

Ros dropped her voice slightly and looked into Sansa’s eyes. “Do you crave her touch? Think about her lips? Feel her fingers in you when she’s not around?”

Sansa blushed harder than before and sheepishly nodded. Her septa proceeded to laugh boisterously that Sansa threw a grape at the laughing woman. “It’s not  _funny_!” her voice squeaked. “It’s  _distracting_. How am I supposed to get any work done when I keep thinking about  _her_?”

“You could always masturbate,” Ros answered with ease.

If Sansa could get any redder, she would have at  _that_ suggestion. “I’ve never done  _that_.”

“Oh come on, Sansa, say it with me: _I’ve never masturbated_.”

Sansa frowned at Ros teasing her.

“Come on. _I, Sansa Stark, have never masturbated._ ” She sipped her tea. “Sex is not taboo, Sansa, as your septa, I can answer these questions  _judgement free_.”

“Well, my septa growing up was far  _less unconventional_ than you are, she taught me how to knit, read literature, do laundry,” Sansa argued.

“Stop evading the actual issue at hand. Say it with me, now.”

The young Stark grimaced. Clearly, her septa wasn’t going to let this go. “Fine, fine.” She groaned in frustration before taking a breath of mental preparation. “ _ISansaStarkhavenevermasturbated_.”

“What was that?” Ros asked cupping her hand around her ear with curiosity. “I couldn’t hear what that jumble was. I think you need to  _enunciate_ it.”

Sansa growled. “I... _Sansa Stark_...Have. Never. Masturbated.”

“Well, you should,” Ros threw back quickly.

“That’s not helpful!” Sansa practically squeaked.

“Look what you’re experiencing is sexual frustration,” the older woman continued on to educate. “Sexual frustration happens to the best of us. Like I said, while you shouldn’t base your sexual experience with what is going on with Margaery, I understand where you could start feeling a physical attachment to her. It’s okay to feel that attraction with her, a man, or a woman, whatever. The point really is that sexual frustration is like a  _desire_ , a  _yearning_ , a  _craving_. And the only way to get rid of a craving is to satisfy it.”

“But--”

“Do you want me to  _call_ Margaery and tell her that you want her to take you to bed  _right now_?”

Sansa shook her head furiously. “No! Please don’t do that.” That’d be far more embarrassing than anything Sansa could imagine in that moment. She was a grown woman. “There has to be  _other_ ways.”

Ros sighed and threw the folded up newspaper to her side of the table. “Here is a distraction. It’ll probably make you more upset than anything but maybe you wouldn’t be so focused on wanting to fuck your mistress.”

Sansa grumbled at her septa. “You don’t need to be so  _crass_ ,” she said as she took the paper. “What is in the news anyways that would make me upset?”

Then she saw the headline:  _Stark Industries stocks plummet._

Sansa forced herself to read the article regardless. She had never talked about their company with her parents before. They had always shied away from the topic, insisting they were always in good standing, and when Sansa would finish her time at university, she’d be more privy to the family business. For the most part Robb was slated to take over the company when uncle retired.

Ros was correct in assuming that Sansa would be upset. Her family’s livelihood was going into ruins. Her Uncle Benjen was named CEO when her father had taken a spot in Robert Baratheon’s cabinet, but since they were named enemies of the state, Uncle Benjen had apparently disappeared overseas. Now that he was gone, people were questioning the credibility of the company, asking questions of the weapons trading that Stark Industries were responsible for.

By the time Sansa got to the end of the article, she was seething.  _No one_ was sure where her family was. She wasn’t sure  _anyone_ was even looking. And to make matters worse,  _Balon Greyjoy was acting CEO now._

It was just a mess.

And Sansa couldn’t do anything to fix it.

She closed the paper quickly and threw it on the table. Now she was frustrated, in a far less sexual manner. “I really want to  _hit_ something now,” she said with a snarl.

Ros smiled sadly at her and stood up. “Come on, let’s go to the gym and hit the bag.”

\---------------------------

Going to the gym had helped Sansa a bit. She was able to release a lot of her frustration as she worked up a sweat. At the end of their workout, Sansa almost felt as good as she did after leaving Margaery’s bed.  _Almost_. While she didn’t feel upset about the news anymore, she still felt tension between her legs.

As much as she wanted to figure out a way to save her family name somehow, this was a more  _immediate_ issue she could solve.

The hot water sprayed her body clean as she scrubbed herself carefully with the loofah. There was a soreness in her muscles that made her tired. As she continued to clean herself, she thought about what Ros said about masturbating.

To be honest, it was refreshing to know that Ros was open to talking to her about sex. It made her feel less apprehensive to discuss it with someone that wasn’t Margaery.

While the thoughts of touching herself still remained an embarrassing topic, Sansa knew it was better than asking for Margaery to fuck her. More importantly, she was in the privacy of her own bathroom and room. The other workers, chefs, maids, were all a floor below, so she wouldn’t be bothered.

The foamy soap slid off her body as she hung the loofah on a hook. Her hands ran up and down her body with familiarity as she felt the trembles of desire that had been harboring inside of her all day.

Ros was right, it wasn’t wrong to think of someone else other than Margaery sexually. However,  _Margaery_ was the one she was thinking of.

Sansa bit her lip as she slowly cupped her wet breasts. She thought about how the older woman would roll her fingers over her nipples and get them hard before sucking them slowly. She bowed her head as she touched herself slowly to emulate the feeling.

The tension between her thighs bloomed significantly. Her body was getting used to the sex and she could tell how wet she was without touching herself.

Sansa continued to tease her breasts as the water continued to warm her body. Her thoughts solely of Margaery.

Still cupping herself with one hand, Sansa used the other one to caress her body slowly moving south. When she reached the apex of her thighs, she nearly stopped touching herself. Her chest tightened with uneasiness of whether it was  _right_ to do so. Her jaw clenched, regardless of it it was right or wrong, Sansa still had to do  _something_ about it.

Braving through the fear, Sansa slid her hand between her thighs and gentle stepped her feet apart so that she could slide her fingers through her folds. She moaned quietly as her fingers slipped back and forth with ease. Her mind still wandered to her mistress.

It was hard to remember exactly how Margaery touched her but Sansa was constantly reminded with how she felt. Her fingers continued to move slowly and she felt her clit begging to be touched. She pressed gently with her thumb and whimpered.

Sansa felt her knees tremble as she continued to touch herself. She stopped kneading her breast and placed the hand on the shower wall to support herself.

It was time she got on with it. The frustration was becoming unbearable. She could almost feel her mistress’ presence. If Margaery were to find out about this, Sansa wouldn’t know how to react.  _What if I am a distraction for Margaery as well?_

Sansa moaned, dipping two fingers into her heat. It felt different from Margaery’s fingers but she still imagined that it was her mistress touching her. The change of focus almost made it okay for Sansa to masturbate. She kept that in mind. She imagined her mistress pushing hard and deep into her. Her fingers scissored the way Margaery’s would to stretch her just a bit.

Sansa panted wondering when she had become enamored by sex. Especially sex with Margaery. She cursed in her mind as she thought about Margaery being the one to add another finger when she would be close to coming. Her walls fluttered and Sansa groaned this time.

Her imagination grew vivid. Her fingers were no longer her own, they were Margaery’s pushing in and out. She could feel Margaery’s lips ghosting against her back as she reached around to fuck her. She could hear Margaery’s voice whisper, “ _Come now, Sansa_.”

It sent shivers down her spine and made her eyes roll back as Sansa’s walls clenched around her fingers. She came whispering Margaery’s name.

\---------------------------

Sansa had felt significantly better after her shower. Her body was no longer humming with desire. Her mind was in a cloud as she stepped out. She felt rejuvenated even.

Looking at the clock, she had a few hours until dinner and decided that now that her mind was void of distractions, she could focus on her work again. Even if she was being privately tutored and no one would mind if she was a little late on her work, Sansa would definitely be bothered.

She opted to work on her assignments to completion. Margaery could slip back into her mind after she’d eaten. But without realizing it, Sansa felt her mind becoming tired as she finished her assignments. There was still time before dinner and Ros was sure to come get her.

She climbed into her bed, a nap was well deserved after her day.

When Sansa had woken up, she realized that it was dark. She sat up quickly in her bed and looked at the time.

9:14pm. That was not a nap. She had practically slept.  _And missed dinner._

She was about to jump out of bed when she noticed a small piece of paper fell onto her lap.

Sansa opened it to read quickly.

_You looked like you had a long day. Margaery said she’ll be waiting for you when you wake up. Hope you rested well, Jonquil._

Ros signed it with a smiley face at the bottom but it didn’t make her feel any better. Sansa knew Margaery was specific about when she wanted Sansa to be wherever.

Sansa jumped out of bed and fixed her hair.  _Margaery is probably waiting to punish me for missing dinner_. She tried to ignore the subtle excitement bubbling in her stomach because Margaery’s version of punishment was far more pleasurable than painful.

As Sansa made her way up the stairs towards Margaery’s room, she wondered what she would do if Margaery was already asleep. Granted it was still early for the executive, but there were a few days that Sansa caught how tired Margaery would be. After an orgasm, Sansa would notice how Margaery would pull her close before her breathing evened out. They’d both fall asleep completely spent.

There was a light slipping out at the bottom Margaery’s door and Sansa knocked gently.

“ _Come in,_ ” Margaery’s voice sounded through the door.

She peaked in and saw the back of Margaery’s head poking up from the couch. Sansa walked in quickly towards her mistress and immediately began to apologize, “I am so sorry I missed dinner. I didn’t know that I was that tired. It’s been a long day.”

Her words fell from her mouth slowly after realizing Margaery was sitting there with papers littered across the coffee table next to her open briefcase and a tray of an empty plate and glass of water. Margaery had the fork in her mouth looking up at her with her wide eyes.

For a second, it all looked so  _quaint_.

Margaery’s lips curled into a smile around the fork before she slipped the utensil out slowly. “Are you well rested?” she asked with a playful smile.

Usually Margaery came back looking tired and sometimes angry, but before Sansa, Margaery looked pleasant and content. It was striking to see her mistress as such in the night.

Sansa nodded in response. “I am sorry…”

Margaery waved her hand and put the fork down. “Come sit,” she said as she moved over to make space. “I got back a bit later than usual anyways.”

“I just--I know how  _particular_ you are,” Sansa reasoned softly as she sat down.

Margaery seemed to scoff at this before reaching out to push Sansa’s hair behind her ear. “You also know how  _irritable_ I am when I wake up as well,” she said playfully as her thumb brushed against Sansa’s cheekbone.

“Is that what you call it?” Sansa teased with a smile.

Margaery pursed her lips. “What do you say it is then?”

Sansa shook her head. She wasn’t going to fall for this trap. If she said the wrong thing, Margaery would pounce.

Regardless, Margaery leaned forward and brought their lips together. Sansa welcomed her as her hand held Margaery’s against her cheek.

Margaery pulled back slightly, leaving Sansa confused, and whispered, “Ros called me today.”

 _She didn’t._  Sansa’s eyes widened as she stared at the older woman before her.

A smirk played at the corner of Margaery’s lips. “She said my pet was craving her mistress today.”

Sansa blushed. She was going to kill her septa. She didn’t care. _Margaery could find me a new septa._

“Was she lying?” Margaery continued to tease.

Sansa looked down into her lap and muttered, “No…”

A hand slipped under her chin to bring their eyes to meet. “Were you able to satisfy your need?” There was a shine in Margaery’s eyes and Sansa nodded abashedly. Margaery cooed. “I’m sorry, Sansa, I wasn’t here to fuck you.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and let go of Margaery’s hand so that it could fall from her face. “It’s--it’s not like it was your fault. I am just your slave. It’s  _my job_  to satisfy you.”

Margaery’s fallen hand slipped onto Sansa’s thigh and navigated up slowly. Her voice teased, “That doesn’t mean I’m averse to knowing when you’re feeling horny. By all means Sansa, you could call me anytime to let me know you want me to fuck you.”

Sansa gasped.  _Why is everyone always so crass?_  She bit her lip as Margaery’s hand continued to rub her thigh not so innocently.

“Did you touch yourself?” Margaery asked as she moved enough to pin Sansa against the arm of the couch.

Sansa nodded, letting Margaery advance. She wasn’t letting her body fool her. She was getting wet again. And now that Margaery was present, she was glad she wasn’t going to be sexually frustrated for too long.

“Tell me how you touched yourself,” Margaery ordered as she untucked Sansa’s shirt and slowly began to unbutton it.

Sansa blushed, waiting until her shirt fell open before formulating her thoughts. “I-i was in the shower,” Margaery made a sound of approval as she pushed the shirt open just a bit more for her hands to cup Sansa through her bra, “and I cupped my breasts. I pinched my nipples.” Sansa gasped as Margaery leaned down to kiss the tops of her breasts. It was better than her  _imagination_.

“ _Mm hmm_ , what else?” Margaery asked licking her cleavage briefly before kissing up to her clavicle.

Sansa tried to catch her breath, forgetting to be embarrassed. “And I used two fingers at first, feeling how wet I was,” she whimpered and reached for Margaery’s arms as she felt the kisses up her neck. “Then I pushed in and out, and scissored them.”

“Like how I do with you?” Margaery asked, voice husky and breath hot at her ear. She nibbled at her earlobe and Sansa nodded. “Were you imagining  _me_?”

Sansa blushed and answered, “The whole time.” She squeezed her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that was building again.

Margaery let out a low growl and quickly slipped her hand into Sansa’s jeans.

A small whimper fell from her lips as soon as Margaery cupped her but what really ruined the moment was a  _grumble_.

A low grumble coming from Sansa’s _stomach_.

Sansa cursed at herself more embarrassed than just having admit to Margaery about her shower earlier that day. She threw her hands onto her face to hide her embarrassment as Margaery picked up her head.

“Did you have dinner yet?” she asked with a lightness in her voice.

Sansa shook her head, refusing to uncover her face. “I am so sorry,” she said through her hands. “I am so embarrassed, please let me go back to my room.”

She heard Margaery laugh and peaked through her fingers.

“You are being absurd,” Margaery said as she tugged at Sansa’s wrists. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen to get you food.”

“Oh?” Sansa asked as she stood up with Margaery. She quickly buttoned her shirt. “I can still have dinner?”

Margaery looked at Sansa in confusion before saying, “Do you think I wouldn’t feed you just because you missed dinner?”

Sansa didn’t answer.

“I would be a terrible mistress if I fucked you on an empty stomach,” she joked as she picked up the tray and handed it to Sansa. “Besides, I am craving a bit of dessert anyways.”

Sansa took the tray obediently and stared in awe at Margaery, glad to see this side of her mistress. It was different. It was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of my holiday writing dash at nocteverbascio.tumblr


End file.
